


Wake Up; Show Appreciation

by Moraith



Series: The Nightmarish Extended Yuki Family [3]
Category: Persona 3, Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Dramedy, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moraith/pseuds/Moraith
Summary: Makoto and Elizabeth like their kid a lot, even if he's a big handful and way too magical for his own good. They have to sneak past Margaret to talk to him these days, but it's worth it.The World Ends With You AU of Persona 3 where Makoto and Elizabeth are the Composer and Conductor of Iwatodai, respectively. Also, they're Joshua's parents. Just roll with it. Joshua/Neku mentioned, but not a big deal.This is a more P3-flavored and therefore more morose and weird companion piece to Pardon My Music.





	Wake Up; Show Appreciation

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't really intending to write more of this stupid AU yesterday when I posted the last one, but here we are. Sometimes you're just in a mood.

The Composer’s chambers in Tartarus smelled of blood. The coppery stench hung thick and heavy in the dry dusty air at all hours of the day and night. A supernatural cold pervaded the tower that could not be kept out by coats or blankets or space heaters, though Makoto had tried all three. It was a terrible place to work and an even worse place to live. He could understand why Joshua wanted to run.

Joshua had sent photos of his own Composer’s chambers in Shibuya when he first took charge of them. They didn’t look much more inviting, but they were his and not his parents’ and Makoto imagined that must count for something.

In the months afterward, Joshua’s contact became more sporadic. When he did respond to his parents’ efforts to reach out, which was rare, his responses were either clipped and irritable or self-serving non-sequiturs. It was nothing Joshua’s parents hadn’t seen before. The last time this happened, he ran halfway across the country and killed himself.

Elizabeth began hatching a plan to check on Joshua, but getting a Composer and Conductor out of their city and into someone else’s was far from an easy task. She turned to her sister, who acted both as a supervisor and her liaison to the powers that be, for assistance. Margaret not only refused, but threw herself into blocking Elizabeth’s efforts at every turn.

“This sort of foolishness,” she said then, “is what got you into this pitiful mess to begin with.”

Elizabeth’s pride spurred her to argue, but she had no protest that Margaret had not heard and dismissed a thousand times before. Margaret had no love for humanity’s imperfections, nor had she guilt, nor humility, nor could she accept that her love for her family was just as all-consuming and irrational as Elizabeth’s own. Elizabeth bit her tongue, glared, and sent a bolt of destructive magical energy at her sister with a thought and a flick of the wrist.

Margaret adjusted her hair, though not a single strand had been knocked out of place by Elizabeth’s half-hearted blow. “If you are quite finished with your childish tantrum…”

Elizabeth arranged her face into a serene smile. “Oh, my dear sister. My existence is nothing more than a childish tantrum that has far overstayed its welcome. You could hardly expect me to betray my nature.”

Margaret exhaled a weary sigh. “No; I could not expect it. But I could dare to hope that you might.”

Elizabeth curled her lip in disgust, but hid her undignified expression by taking a sweeping bow. “My apologies for betraying your hopes once again, dear sister.”

Elizabeth turned on her heel and left, her skirt flaring behind her as if to punctuate her farewell.

 

* * *

 

Even with Makoto’s tireless and often destructive and entertaining cooperation, Elizabeth did not manage to get to Tokyo before the problem solved itself. Joshua reopened communications of his own free will, chipper and eager.

He had made a friend, he said. He did not say that he was head over heels in love with his new friend, but he did nothing to hide it. It could not have been more obvious from the way Joshua talked about him. Joshua thought the world of Neku, and before long, his parents followed suit, just as protective and adoring of this boy they had never met as their son who loved him.

“I doubt he’ll ever forgive me for shooting him,” Joshua lamented over the phone. “Especially after I did it twice. He said he wanted to see me again, but…” He huffed, his harsh breath turning into a staticky crackle over the phone’s tinny speakers. “…it can’t be that easy. I killed him, Mother. I was going to leave him dead.”

“I see…” Elizabeth said, though she did not. “…I must say, I am not entirely certain I understand the problem. I not only drove your father to his untimely and painful demise, I also challenged him to a duel and came at him with killing intent. Had he not bested me, he would have perished. Personally, I have always thought our relationship was quite admirable, not to mention terribly romantic…”

Joshua groaned. A soft noise of a cushioned impact and fabric shifting in the background indicated that he had once again dramatically flung himself down on his second-in-command’s couch. “Mother, Neku isn’t like us. He’s human. He was always human. It’s not the same.”

“Your father was human once, Joshua,” Elizabeth reminded him, not unkindly. “Humans possess an uncanny power of forgiveness. My advice, if I may be so bold, is not to ‘look a gift horse in the mouth,’ as they say. If Mr. Sakuraba forgives you, that is his choice. Do not allow him to regret it.” She paused, turning her own advice over carefully in her mind. “…too much,” she amended. “Best to keep those pesky human fellows on their toes. What’s a romance without a touch of danger?”

“I believe that would be a normal romance, Mother dearest. Obviously, that sort of thing is below us. Mundanity is for other people.”

“Hear hear!” Elizabeth cheered, raising a fist high in the air for nobody at all to see. She smiled fondly at the wall and cradled the phone in her hands like something precious. “Your father and I plan to arrange a visit to your domain soon. I hope you’ll make it an outing to remember.”

“Oh, please. If you manage to get past Aunt Margaret, you’ll have the entire Shibuya Underground to contend with. You won’t even make it to the River.”

“A challenge! How wonderful! I will inform Makoto to prepare for a brawl. I hope you will to the same for your compatriots.”

“Don’t you worry: they’re always ready for a brawl. Shibuya’s a battlefield, Mother.”

“I am eager to witness the brutality for myself,” Elizabeth said. “In the meantime, I suspect your father would like to speak to you. Shall I fetch him?”

Joshua murmured a goodbye to his mother as she dashed to the uppermost part of the freezing blood-stained tower that served as their home. She expertly dodged past the vindictive murderous Noise inhabiting the tower’s upper levels and found Makoto watching over the citizens of Iwatodai in silence from the roof. She handed the phone to him with a bright smile that told him who was on the other end without any need for words.

“Hi, Joshua. Do you like Tokyo?” Makoto said, his voice as soft and uniform a drone as ever.

Joshua responded with a quiet noncommittal noise. “It’s a great place. I’m not sure I like the people.”

Makoto snorted. “Since when have you ever liked people?”

“Guilty as charged. Still, I was hoping for some sort of improvement once I’d broadened my horizons…”

Elizabeth took a seat next to Makoto and leaned against his side, watching the gloomy citizens of Iwatodai wander the streets below. Makoto took her hand and leaned on her as well, the two of them awkwardly propping each other up while Joshua chattered away about everything that had happened while he was refusing contact. Celebrities and trends and bands and restaurants had come and gone, swept in and out without mercy by the ever-changing tides of Shibuya’s culture. Makoto smiled into the distance and responded when Joshua prompted him, with jokes and acknowledgments tinged with his signature morbidity.

“Did your mom tell you we’re coming to visit?” Makoto asked, once Joshua’s well of complaints and stories had run dry.

“She did say something along those lines. She didn’t tell me how you were planning to manage it, though. Composers leaving their districts is a big no-no, Father. You’re going to get in more trouble than me at this rate.”

“Mochizuki’s gonna pretend to be me. No one will ever know.”

Elizabeth laughed. “My sister will never suspect a thing.”

“If you keep encouraging him like this, the city will go to the Noise again,” Joshua grumbled.

Makoto mulled that over, then concluded, “Whatever.”

“When it happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Shibuya doesn’t do refugees, so don’t come knocking on my door.”

“Okay.”

Makoto handed the phone back to Elizabeth. She took it and held it up to her ear to inform Joshua, “Your father has returned the telephone to me. I suppose this means we will see you in Shibuya. Only time will tell whether we have made a daring escape from my sister’s prying eyes or from a gruesome death at the hands of the Noise hordes…”

 

* * *

 

Makoto and Elizabeth’s escape from Margaret’s prying eyes came a month later, in the aftermath of a particularly chaotic Noise outbreak. It was an unplanned crime of opportunity, though their fortune could not have been more perfect. Makoto and Elizabeth were on the streets, working alongside their Reapers to contain the worst of the damage and protect the living citizens, as they always were when the full moon’s curse drew the most powerful Noise out of hiding. This meant that when a second Noise cluster led by one Ryoji Mochizuki appeared inside the Reapers’ headquarters, no one but Margaret was available to contain it. Makoto and Elizabeth cleared out the first cluster, listened to and ignored Margaret’s scathing communications as she obliterated the rest, and slipped out under her nose.

The trail of destruction they left in their wake as they traveled through district after district on their way to Tokyo would later be called ‘legendary’ and ‘an atrocity,’ which struck Elizabeth as harsh given that they left very polite letters of apology and monetary compensation for every Conductor and Composer before they took their leave.

Still, they did not encounter any trouble as such on their way in. They were more than happy to comply with any demands to exit the district immediately, even if their exit was not necessarily in the direction the locals would have preferred. No one did anything, nor could anyone do anything, to keep Makoto and Elizabeth from Shibuya.

Shibuya’s Reapers were by far the quickest of any district to respond to their arrival, which Elizabeth quietly noted as a mark in Joshua’s favor. Of course, their response was to shriek a warning to their superiors and flee to the RG so they didn’t get instantly vaporized. Makoto stood perfectly still, giving the Reapers plenty of room to run and listening to the alien rhythm flowing through Joshua’s city. Elizabeth bounced on her heels, looking around the bright bustling city streets, star-struck.

“My, my… It certainly is a lovely place!” She twirled around, holding her arms out to her sides and feeling the air flow past. She inhaled a lungful of smoggy city air with a blissful grin. “Well! I suppose I will have to extract Joshua from his office.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Makoto, would you care to join me, or would you prefer to get a head start on taking in the sights?”

Makoto shrugged, then began wandering off in a random direction that was not toward the station. Elizabeth waved cheerfully to him, then took off toward Joshua.

Makoto sauntered through the streets, hands in his pockets. He could feel the UG twisting and growing distorted and cloudy around him. He wondered, vaguely, if Shibuya would be recognizable by the end of this. There was a reason Composers didn’t travel. As long as he was here to see it, he committed as much of the city to memory so it wouldn’t be lost. Shibuya was always changing. That was one of the things Joshua loved about it. Even if Makoto recalled everything in perfect detail, how each street corner and each shop differed from the inescapable artistic renditions of them in popular culture, he would still only remember one moment of the city’s existence, not its essence. As Makoto walked the streets, he became more and more certain that he was better suited to Iwatodai, a city constantly in a state of decay, bound inextricably to death and the ever-forward march of time. Shibuya, vibrant and shifting and alive, could be Joshua’s.

He found the street the Reapers had fled to before long. They were all huddled in a crowd, talking amongst themselves in hushed urgent tones. He did not pay them any mind. They were Joshua’s friends, not his. He could vaguely remember having read somewhere that you were supposed to give your children some degree of freedom and privacy and not bothering his employees seemed like a decent start on good parenting. On the far side of the crowd, however, was an exceptionally bright living soul that Makoto could not help but be drawn to.

Makoto tapped one of the Reapers on the shoulder, intending to ask them to step aside. As soon as his fingers made contact, the Reaper’s wings vibrated into dust with an ear-piercing shriek. He blinked owlishly at the empty air where there used to be a human being. “...Oops. My bad.”

There was a brief horrified silence, followed by hundreds of panicked footsteps fleeing to anywhere far away from Makoto. He stood still, allowing them plenty of space to escape, then surveyed the empty street. It sure did look different with no one on it. No one except for the one living boy with the blinding soul lying unconscious on the ground. Makoto sauntered over and to wait for him to wake up. Apologies, it seemed, were in order.

Meanwhile, near the station, Elizabeth occupied herself with making mincemeat of Shibuya’s Officers. She left them intact, of course: incapacitated rather than erased. Elizabeth enjoyed little more than a spar with the highest stakes, but it wouldn’t do to further diminish her son’s already depleted staff. She brushed past the battered bodies of the best Shibuya had to offer and pushed on toward Joshua’s office deep underground.

Were she more inclined to notice that sort of thing, the musty air and the cakes of sewage that filled the underpass leading to the River would have been off-putting. Being as inhuman as she was, the colorful graffiti lining the walls drew her attention fully. Each piece was unique and beautiful and entirely unlike anything the artists in Iwatodai would produce. She suspected, as she dallied in the hall to admire the art, that she was the victor of the sightseeing portion of this venture _and_ the seeing Joshua portion. She made a mental note to lord her success over Makoto as much as possible when they reunited.

For the moment, the time had come for the main event. Elizabeth made her way to the end of the hall and into the lounge that Joshua’s Conductor had designed. It looked like something straight out of Margaret’s fantasies, all sleek and modern and quietly ridiculous and full of potent alcohol. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose on principle, though for all she knew Megumi Kitaniji was a perfectly tolerable individual not prone to stuffiness and an inflated sense of superiority.

Joshua’s office did not have a door so much as a metaphor in the shape of a door, so she rapped her knuckles on the foosball table displayed prominently in the center of the room instead.

“Although I am certain news of our arrival has already traveled to you through your expertly-trained staff I notice that you have not yet emerged from hiding. Your father and I would like to see you.” Elizabeth paused, considering the fish swimming in lazy circles under her feet. “This is your mother, Elizabeth,” she clarified. One could never be too sure.

A deep commanding voice that carried with it the authority of an entire city’s population answered. “No. Leave My city.”

Elizabeth’s lips quirked up. “My, my. I see you’ve inherited your father’s flair for the dramatic. I cannot say your new speaking voice suits you.” She stomped her foot on the glass floor. It clicked under the force, thin cracks spreading out from the site of impact to cover the entire lounge. “I did so hope to avoid causing a scene in your office…”

A pulse of power spread from the invisible door to heal the cracks in the floor. “I see you’re threatening to dunk yourself in Megumi’s aquarium. Very intimidating,” the voice boomed, too overwhelming and forceful to be effectively sarcastic.

Elizabeth stepped over to the jukebox situated against the wall. She lifted it with one hand and flung it against the alcohol-lined shelves behind the bar as effortlessly as if it were made of paper. Shards of glass scattered across the room in a cacophony of glittery chimes as the amber-colored liquids stained the floor below.

“Might I suggest something a bit more understated? Perhaps you could do celebrity impressions?” Elizabeth suggested brightly, kicking aside a bit of jagged metal that used to be a jukebox.

Another pulse of power set the lounge right again, with an intact jukebox resting against an intact wall and intact shelves lined with intact bottles.

“Are you done?” the voice boomed.

Elizabeth hummed. “I wonder… Have I caught sight of my willful and rebellious son yet?” She paused expectantly, leaning in toward the invisible door to Joshua’s office. When Joshua did not respond, she allowed the silence to extend far past a reasonable length. She paced circles around the foosball table, never straying far from Joshua’s door.

“Wha—”

“No, I have not!” Elizabeth declared, cutting Joshua off. “And as such, no, I am not ‘done!’”

She punctuated her declaration by bracing her foot on the foosball table and tearing two of the metal rods out of it right through the wood. She swung them in the direction of the wall, sending the plastic soccer players flying off the rods.

Metaphorical hinges creaked, the sound echoing throughout the lounge with exaggerated clarity. Joshua poked his head out of the door, or what passed for his head like this. His entire body had dissolved into a loose network of glowing threads, wound together roughly in the shape of a person. He was fuzzy around the edges, his body slipping an intangible ethereal form and fading seamlessly into the air around him.

Elizabeth grabbed a fistful of his hair, or whatever was in the place where his hair ought to be, before he could do or say anything.

“Mission accomplished! It is lovely to see you, Joshua. I am sure your father will be overjoyed to see your face, or lack thereof!”

Joshua had not realized that it was possible for someone to touch his hair while it was made of pure solidified music, but if someone was going to do it, he had to concede that it would be his mother. He swatted at her hands, but she held fast. “This isn’t fair!” he whined, his booming voice doing nothing to make the situation less humiliating.

“Very little in life is fair, Joshua,” Elizabeth informed him. She tugged him fully out into the lounge, then began her triumphant march toward Makoto.

Joshua collapsed back into his human form, slim and delicate and fifteen years old. He continued stumbling after his mother, batting uselessly at her hands. “You’re not even supposed to be here! Let go of my hair! I don’t want to see either of you!”

“I will do no such thing,” Elizabeth declared. “If you would like, I can offer you monetary compensation for any damages…”

With a frustrated whine in the back of his throat, Joshua warped the fabric of the Underground to make the door out of Megumi’s office lead straight to Makoto. Anything he could do to get this torture over with had to be worth it.

 

* * *

 

Elizabeth and Makoto were forcibly removed from Shibuya as soon as they were no longer fighting against it. It would have been nice to spend more time with Joshua and his little boyfriend, but even they could see that Makoto was making Shibuya come apart at the seams. After a group hug and a pep talk for Joshua, they left without a fuss.

Hanekoma and Margaret’s combined Angelic power sent the two of them directly back to Iwatodai without having to pass through any other districts. Upon their return, Margaret fixed both of them with her flattest most withering glare and held Ryoji up by the scarf. Ryoji’s neck bent at an inhuman angle, like he was hanging from the gallows, neck snapped. His grin was nearly wide enough to split his face in half.

“I believe this belongs to you, Yuki,” she drawled.

She released Ryoji’s scarf. He fell to the ground in a suspiciously liquid heap.

“I am sure you will be relieved to know that Iwatodai has not been destroyed, despite your best efforts,” she continued dryly.

Makoto blinked sleepily at her, then at the familiar Iwatodai skyline. He gave her a thumbs up. “Good work.”

Elizabeth mirrored Makoto’s thumbs up. “Your help is greatly appreciated.”

Margaret pinched the bridge of her nose. “...I have no idea how I’m going to protect you from yourself this time, Elizabeth…” she grumbled.

“Your help is greatly appreciated,” Elizabeth repeated, adding an extra thumbs up to sweeten the deal.

Makoto raised his hand. “I’ll take the fall. It’s whatever.”

“If you force Makoto to shoulder the blame, I will curse your clan to a fate so horrific none will dare speak of it!” Elizabeth said cheerfully. She considered her lack of thumbs to add to the bargain, and raised a leg instead.

“We are sisters, Elizabeth,” Margaret said.

“Not to worry, sister; I will disown you first!”

Makoto snorted, a smile tugging at his lips. He laced his fingers with Elizabeth’s and tugged her toward Tartarus. “Come on, Elizabeth. Someone’s gotta find out what Mochizuki did to our room.”

She took a moment to stick her tongue out at her sister, then followed him eagerly toward home, leaving Margaret, as ever, to clean up the mess.


End file.
